


in your eyes i thought i saw tomorrow

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, Exes to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Forgiveness, Getting Back Together, Introspection, Lack of Communication, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, Rimming, aka Sento doesn't come back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 07:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: Gentoku made a mistake long ago when he uses Takumi's research to fuel Faust with military technology that submerged their country in war, working alongside the creature determined to destroy the world they love. With so many mistakes made, Gentoku is sure Takumi would never look at him again. But when Evolt brings Takumi back, eradicating Sento's memories and self in the process, Gentoku finds a second chance thrust upon him, a chance to finally right the wrongs he committed against the only man he ever loved.





	in your eyes i thought i saw tomorrow

The quiet is unnerving. During the midst of battle with their lives and the fate of the country on the line, the fate of the entire  _ planet _ now, Gentoku can almost forget that there are times of peace during war, silent nights and quiet afternoons where he has no choice but to reflect on the long path he had walked to get here today. From this perspective, it’s almost difficult to figure out what the original path even looked like, or what the end goal was. Maybe he walked off of it so long ago he no longer remembers, walked off it the moment he met Katsuragi Takumi.

He can pretend sometimes that it wasn’t Takumi who changed his perspective of the world, who opened his eyes to the possibility of so much more with the aid of science. He can pretend, but Gentoku knows himself too well now, has seen every angle of himself, the best and worst parts, and he knows better than anyone else that Takumi was his ultimate undoing. A man who could walk into his life and set him spinning off of his axis, a man whose genius and intellect he could use for his own gain even as his heart escaped his possession in favor of Takumi’s.

Of course, he knew that much. Gentoku still remembers the excited expression on Takumi’s face, the glitter in his eyes, when he asked Gentoku how soon he would be able to start working on his experiments once more. He remembers the way his heart swelled at those words, at the sight of seeing Takumi happy again, at knowing the two of them were going to take back the country together, their ideals meshing so neatly together Gentoku never realized there were open, gaping chasms between them until it was far too late to make a difference anymore.

How long had he been grieving their relationship before Takumi turned up dead? He can’t even remember. He passes that off as the reason why he never knew it wasn’t Takumi’s body laid out on that table, and really, that should be fair given all he saw was his face, cold and still, while the coroner patiently asked him if he could identify the body.  _ The body, _ like Takumi had ceased to be a person just because someone had come along and snuffed out the vibrant, intelligent, beautiful man he always was and always would be.

Maybe if Gentoku had touched him then, he would have known. Maybe there would have been something to alert him that this wasn’t really Takumi, that this was just a mannequin with his face, that another man had died in his place so that Isurugi Soichi—  _ Evolt _ — could get what he wanted, could play every side of the field to regain his original power. All this time later, Gentoku has no way to prove this true, and he knows that Sato Taro is buried now, something Gentoku paid for because it was the least he could do when it was his fault that Takumi was dead.

Not that he sent Banjo Ryuga after him, of course, but because Gentoku should never have pushed him away, alienated him so much that he ran without looking back, that he planned on fighting tooth and nail to escape Faust. To escape  _ Gentoku. _ And Banjo had never touched him, had been there to offer himself as an experiment subject, because it had been Evolt. The man Gentoku would work beside for so long afterward, that Gentoku trusted, even just a little, even just enough to get the two of them through Faust together.

That might have been his ultimate sin, in the end. Staying with the man who took Takumi.

The interior of Nascita is quiet. Gentoku sits with his back to the wall, his knees up, his head tucked between them, trying to calm the trail of his thoughts, the crushing pressure that folds around him and threatens to take him apart at the seams. Just when he had assured himself that Takumi was no longer in that body— when he was certain Kiryu Sento was the only one there, that Takumi had died in the end, though a far crueler death than Sato Taro, a death where his memories were stripped away and used as the foundation for a new man to be born— Takumi was suddenly there in front of him. Another needlessly cruel trick of Evolt.

There has been so much death. There have been so many casualties. Gentoku knows war breeds death but how long had be tricked himself into believing he might be able to take the country back without having to resort to such a thing? Takumi had died when Evolt stole his memories and formed him into a new person, and then Sento… Sento had died when Evolt stripped those memories away just to bring Takumi back. Just to hurt  _ all _ of them.

The sound of approaching footsteps coaxes Gentoku to lift his head, too hard, thumping against the wall behind him. It stings, his entire body aches from the constant fighting, but he doesn’t care anymore. His list of things to care about has grown so short in such a small amount of time, and his own life and body have not been on that list in so long.

Banjo Ryuga stands in front of him. The tension hanging around him is palpable, almost tangible; his eyes are red and swollen, his cheeks marked with clear tear tracks, his fists clenched at his sides. Though the two of them have not spoken recently, Gentoku has heard him crying, his sobs muffled by Sawatari Kazumi’s jacket. Grieving the loss of Sento’s life.

“What are you doing over here?” Banjo demands, kicking the side of Gentoku’s foot. “He’s— He’s downstairs right now and you’re just sitting here doing nothing.”

After their conversation in the rubble, Gentoku hardly has a right to think he deserves to talk to Takumi. Takumi made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with Gentoku, that Gentoku perverted the ideals he held so close to his heart, that Gentoku ruined his life in more ways than one— He violated Takumi’s trust, fragile as it was. He came into Takumi’s life and gave him some hope, and then cruelly dashed it for no reason. If Takumi wants nothing to do with him after all of that, Gentoku will hardly be surprised.

“We spoke. He made it clear that there is nothing between the two of us. That there might not have been even before I knew it to be true.” Gentoku’s voice is low, scratchy from disuse.

Banjo’s face crumples and he tilts his head back, taking a deep breath. When he looks back down, his expression is schooled once more. “You’re so stupid. You have any idea how great of a chance this is for you two? Don’t waste it just because you had a bad conversation.”

“You don’t know him. You’ll never—” Gentoku cuts himself off, not wanting to make this harder on Banjo because hasn’t it been hard enough? “I know him better than you do. I understood the finality in his words. I guarantee you that he won’t even humor the idea of a conversation.”

“You think I care about that crap? You’re such an idiot. No wonder he ran away from you instead of trying to talk to you. No one can!” Banjo spits the words out and Gentoku’s muscles tighten, coiling, prepared to spring, because he might be  _ better, _ might be  _ himself, _ but who is Banjo Ryuga to act like he understands anything? “He’s downstairs working so hard to fix everything bad he’s done and you’re sitting here moping. You’re hopeless.”

“Ryuga. Calm down.” The voice comes from behind Banjo, and when he turns, Sawatari Kazumi is there, folding an arm around his shoulders, stabilizing him. “I agree with him, though. You need to go downstairs and talk to Sen— To Katsuragi.”

“What is this? You’re trying to fix us up?” The joke comes out flat, and it doesn’t land at all.

Sawatari drags a hand down his face, then extends it to Gentoku. “Yes, I am. Sue me. You finally get a chance with the man you lost so long ago in the midst of the worst thing to happen to any of us and you’re going to let it go? Do you know what I would do if I had them back?”

Gentoku takes him by the hand, a stab of guilt catching him in the gut, reminding him that he was responsible for the deaths of one of Sawatari’s men. He lets himself be pulled to his feet but he digs them in when Sawatari tries to direct him toward the refrigerator, the staircase that will lead him to Takumi and the laboratory. It hardly surprises him that Takumi is working hard, even now, because Takumi is the hardest worker Gentoku has ever known.

“Stop acting like a little kid.” Sawatari smacks him in the back of the head so hard it  _ hurts _ . “Go talk to him. You think you’re the only one suffering? He came back to this. He came back to the future he caused, and he’s all alone. He doesn’t have anyone. He doesn’t have us like we have each other. You’re all he has, so go talk to him. Fix what you’ve done.”

“And what if I can’t?” Gentoku demands.

Sawatari presses his lips together, tips his head back. “You won’t know until you try, right? And if you can’t, then you stop moping around and move on with your life. If you can’t correct your mistakes with him, then show him that you’ve truly become a new man and continue to fight beside him even if it doesn’t change how he looks at you. It’s the least you can do, right?”

Banjo’s fist thuds against Gentoku’s chest, not hard enough to hurt, and lingers there. “I’m not doing this for you.  _ He _ would want this. He believes in love, too, y’know, not just peace. You love Katsuragi, right? So just… Do something about it, I guess.”

Gentoku can’t snap in his face, not when Banjo has lost so much with the loss of Kiryu Sento, so he just nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. Making himself move toward the refrigerator is difficult, because the last thing he wants to do is have another difficult conversation, another final note in Takumi’s voice telling him that there truly is nothing he can do, nothing he can change, that all of his efforts are for nothing because he caused all of this.

He doesn’t think he can handle the heartbreak of Takumi telling him, a second time, that he never should have trusted him.

He walks slowly down the staircase, though Takumi comes into sight long before he reaches the bottom, darting between his computer screen, his blackboard, and several inventions in mid-development lying in front of him. He’s so in his element that Gentoku stands at the bottom of the stairs, momentarily breathless, because while it doesn’t look like him anymore, it so clearly is him and that does something to his heart, which has grown so cold and empty in Takumi’s absence that he doesn’t know what to do with Takumi right in front of him.

“Himuro-san.” Takumi doesn’t look up from his computer, the tapping telling Gentoku his fingers must be flying across the keyboard. “Can I help you with something this evening?”

Gentoku clears his throat, lingering by the stairs, almost afraid to get too far away from his escape path or too close to Takumi. He doesn’t know which. “Sawatari and Banjo suggested we should have a conversation.”

“I thought as much. Sawatari was bothering me about that just this morning, though I don’t much appreciate it for obvious reasons.” Takumi looks at him over the top of the screen and Gentoku can feel his gaze, the sharpness of it. “Make it quick. I don’t have all day to talk to you.”

It isn’t lost on Gentoku that Sawatari chose Takumi first instead of him, likely identifying him as the easiest of the two of them to talk to first. Of course, Takumi was also the person who turned him down and would have gone without this conversation; Gentoku is the one who gave in and let himself be swayed to talk to Takumi like this. And now, standing across from him, with a thousand apologies on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t know where he should start.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally admits.

“You’ve said what you had to say, and though I  _ appreciate _ your honesty,” Takumi says, his voice grating on Gentoku with the way he stresses the word, “I don’t think there’s anything more for us to say to each other. I’ve made my stance on what happened very clear.”

Gentoku nods, knowing this all too well. He’d listened to his own heart shatter in time with Takumi’s footsteps as he walked over the rubble of their city. “Not to downplay the importance of your work because you know I thought you were brilliant, but there was more to us than that.”

“You’ve come down here to talk about our lapsed relationship,” Takumi deadpans.

It isn’t hard to read the rage in Takumi’s dark eyes, the way he presses his lips into a thin line, the way he slams his hands down on the desk to punctuate his sentence. Gentoku jumps with the sound, telling himself to relax because he knew Takumi would be upset for him to bring up the topic in the midst of all of this. Hadn’t he tried to tell the others as much, only for them to insist that wasn’t a good enough reason to let this go? It feels like a good enough reason. It feels like the perfect reason to accept everything between them is dead, lost in the rubble of the war Gentoku started with Takumi’s hard work and technological advances.

He’d once joked, in a more casual setting, his arm around Takumi’s shoulders, the two of them pressed together on his couch, that no force on earth was powerful enough to stop them. He was right. Nothing on earth was able to stop them; Evolt isn’t of this earth.

“This isn’t exactly an ideal time to discuss such a thing,” Takumi says, drawing Gentoku out of the memories, the fondness etched so deep into his soul he feels empty without it. “Perhaps, when Evolt is defeated and this world is safe. But likely, not even then. We’re  _ over. _ We were over the moment you made it clear I was just a tool in your eyes.”

Gentoku shakes his head, moving across the floor suddenly, faster than he intended, eating up the distance between them far too quickly. “No. You were never just a tool to me. What I did was  _ wrong, _ and I accept that, but you— You were so much more to me than a tool.”

“Was I? How could I ever be?” Takumi twists away from him, picks up his chalk to make notes on the board behind him, giving Gentoku his back.

The question brings Gentoku to a stop before he reaches the heart of the lab, his lips parted with no sound coming out. How could Takumi be more to him? Did he come back with all of his memories  _ but _ the ones of the time they shared together? There were mistakes made, and Gentoku has hurt him, he knows this, has taken Takumi’s heart and smashed it under the weight of his own ideals, thrown it aside, stepped on it the way he stepped on Hotei’s body, but that doesn’t mean he never loved him. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love him still.

“How can you even say that?” he asks, his voice coming out raspy.

“I was so young and stupid. You saved me from prison and gave me a chance at showing you what I could do with the world if I had the chance.” Takumi’s voice breaks on the last word and he stops moving, stops writing. Gentoku watches his shoulders rise and fall, watches him try to keep himself under control. “God knows I was desperate for that. But you also gave me attention. You made me feel so important, you made me think you really loved me.”

“I still do!” Gentoku shouts.

Takumi spins around to face him then and Gentoku takes a step back, wincing, confronted with the sight of Takumi’s eyes dampened by tears, the way his cheeks have grown pink with the effort of trying not to cry. “You never did. You can’t love someone and treat me the way you did. It isn’t possible, not even for you.”

“Takumi, I—” Gentoku stops himself, covers his eyes with his hand, tells himself to slow down, to choose his words with care, because the prospect of making Takumi cry is so real, and he doesn’t want to. He’s never wanted to hurt him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you feel unloved because of what I did with your research and your hard work. I understand the mistakes I made now, better than ever before. And this is one of them, and I am sorry. It was never my intention, but I’ve hurt you. I want to make that right.”

“What if you can’t?” Takumi rounds the desk and plants his hands against Gentoku’s chest, shoving him. Despite the difference in strength, Gentoku stumbles back, his legs wobbly beneath him. “You think you can make this right? How many more times do you want to hurt me?”

Gentoku shakes his head, his own eyes starting to sting. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Takumi stops, shoves a hand over his mouth, tilts his head back and blinks rapidly, and it  _ hurts _ to see him like this. “But you did. All you’ve done is hurt me.”

“I know that. I see that now. I hear it in every word you speak.” Gentoku shudders, his entire body shaking with the motion, hands curling into fists at his side, but not to hit Takumi. He wishes he could strike  _ himself, _ wishes he could punish himself for hurting this man. “I don’t… It doesn’t have to be like before. We don’t have to be together. But I’ll fight by your side until the end to make things right. To fix what we did, what  _ I _ did. Even if I never have you again.”

Takumi drags his sleeve across his eyes and Gentoku has to fight the urge to reach for him, to comfort him in any way, shape or form. “What if we can’t fix this? What if it’s too late?”

“I won’t let it be too late. I don’t care how strong Evolt gets. I won’t stop fighting until we find a way to defeat him even if it… No matter what it takes.” Gentoku has to stop himself, again, this time from going too far in his speech. The last thing he wants to do is say anything that might make Takumi feel guilty, might make him feel like he’s being manipulated again.

Silence lingers between them. Maybe he should go. He’s said everything he can think to say, having no idea what Sawatari expected him to come down here and say, and Takumi has so much work to do that distracting him from it feels like the worst possible thing Gentoku can do right now. He’s just about talked himself into turning on heel and exiting the room when Takumi sniffles and looks at him, his gaze piercing right through to Gentoku’s soul.

“I loved you, you know,” he says, his voice so soft, so hesitant. “I loved you so much.”

Gentoku swallows hard around the tightness in his throat, the dryness, the nerves that make his hands quiver and his knees weak. This is hard, much harder than he ever imagined it would be when he realized the man in Kiryu Sento’s body was his ex-lover, the second only person in Gentoku’s life to ever entrance him to the point where he thought the word  _ love  _ was appropriate. Only he was able to go so much farther with Takumi than Hotei. In a different setting, he might look back one day at the fact Evolt tried to take  _ both _ of them from him.

“I loved you, too.” Gentoku gulps air when Takumi squeezes his eyes shut, already turning away. “I did! I still do. I remember… The way your eyes always lit up when you discovered something, or solved a problem. I could tell you were about to turn to me to tell me from the look on your face. I was so stupid. I didn’t understand anything you tried to tell me.”

Takumi scoffs at him, half-turned away now, the tears squeezing from beneath his eyelids, dampening his cheeks, catching on his eyelashes. “You’re not a scientist. How could you ever?”

“But you always tried to dumb it down for me so I could understand because you wanted to share it with me.” Gentoku dares to take a single step forward, but carefully, like Takumi… Is a rabbit, an animal he might startle with his presence. “You didn’t lord that over me.”

“Because I wanted you to appreciate how hard I worked. I know you did. Maybe it wasn’t for the same goals, maybe it wasn’t quite right, but I wanted you to see how smart I was, how capable.” Takumi laughs, and the sound is edged in bitterness, not what Gentoku was aiming for at all.

He stretches his hand out slowly, fingers curling so carefully around Takumi’s wrist, so worried he might break him at any moment. “It’s been your intelligence this entire time, you know. Your brain, because it’s your body. You created… Everything. Build, all of its various forms and powers, Cross-Z, the Drivers,  _ everything _ was you. I’ve been in awe of you all this time.”

Takumi hiccups and looks at him, his eyes already growing red, the end of his nose turning pinks, a flush high in his cheeks. Gentoku has never seen him cry. The realization punches him in the gut, the fact he’s never seen what it looks like when Takumi breaks down because that had never happened. For all of the horrible perversions of Takumi’s genius, Gentoku hasn’t made him cry until now when he tries to make everything better.

He’s hopeless at this. Banjo was right.

“I’ve not been able to move on all this time, you know. Your ghost was everywhere. When I identified the body… When I saw your face… My world ended. Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but it did.” He still remembers his knuckles bleeding later, skinned against the concrete when he needed to scream, to punch something, to bleed the emotions out of his system before they consumed and destroyed him. “Sometimes it felt like you were standing right next to me. I suppose for some of this, you were right in front of me. And I was too stupid to know that.”

Takumi’s body is rigid when Gentoku steps closer to him but all he does is brush a few tears from Takumi’s cheeks, not wanting them to make his cheeks raw because working in this condition will only make things that much harder on him. “I would have told you. I would have told you  _ everything _ but you trusted him. You  _ trusted _ that monster. And he tried to kill me. He succeeded. I’m only here now because of him. Do you know how much that scares me?”

“I can’t imagine. I’m not living the life you are, but… But I want to help you. I know you don’t want the Rider System to be used for war. I understand that.” Gentoku’s fingers linger on his cheek and his heart skips a beat when Takumi leans into the touch, his eyes falling closed. “If we don’t fight, he’ll destroy everything. And I don’t want him to take this world from us.”

“I don’t either. I don’t like having to admit that fighting is the only way, but.” Takumi sniffles again and Gentoku’s chest aches, the pain spreading outward.

He wants to do more but he doesn’t dare, not when everything is on a knife’s edge, ready to topple at any moment. “I will fight at your side. I will see this through to the very end. When everything is said and done, if there’s still anything you want from me, anything you want to  _ do _ to me, I’ll stand and take it. If you wanted to punch me, for instance, I’d let you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Takumi mutters, but he doesn’t pull away.

Gentoku smiles softly. “I know that. Banjo already told me once today.”

“Banjo Ryuga calling someone an idiot is rich, coming from him.” Takumi turns, turns those soft sad eyes on him and Gentoku would do anything to make Takumi smile again. “I won’t hit you. I don’t want to. I’m not a violent person, Gentoku. I made many mistakes and hurt many people for the sake of the Rider System, but it’s not what I  _ wanted. _ I’ll fight Evolt because we have no choice, but I don’t want to cause you physical suffering.”

“You’re a gentler person than you have any right to be,” Gentoku admits.

Takumi lifts a hand, wraps his fingers around Gentoku’s wrist over the sleeve of his black Seito coat. “I could almost believe you when you talk about how much you loved me.”

“What do I have to say to convince you? I tried to get you back. I thought… When Evolt told me who you were, I thought I could reach you. I tried, and I failed.” Gentoku shakes his head, the memory still fresh, still painful, as everything else is. “When I was in my right mind. When I was being used by Evolt myself. And that’s fair, more than fair, that I was. But you were there, right in front of me, and I just wanted to get you back.”

“I don’t remember, but I wasn’t here when it happened. Why want me back? Why want me in your life? I’ve heard you had Utsumi on your side,” Takumi says, and that  _ stings. _

“I don’t love Utsumi. It wasn’t about genius or technology because yes, you’re right, he’s adept at creating weaponry now. He was able to counter RabbitRabbit form on his own merits when he had the plans.” Gentoku lets go of Takumi’s wrist so he can cradle Takumi’s face in both hands, his skin so warm against Gentoku’s palms, a balm on his soul. “I wanted  _ you. _ My brilliant scientist, my genius engineer, my lover who let me spoil him with decadent desserts even though he never liked how much I was willing to spend on them.”

The last few words have Takumi’s eyes squeezing shut again, his lips trembling, and it would be the perfect moment, the  _ perfect _ moment, but Gentoku stays in place, watching Takumi carefully. He expects to be slapped away, or to be pushed again, or for Takumi to just tell him they can’t talk about this anymore. Any of that would be deserved. As much as Gentoku loves him, as much as he wants to make things right, to save their city, their country, and their planet, he can’t deny the simple truth that Takumi’s place in his heart is higher. Maybe it hadn’t always been. Maybe he was stupid and selfish once, but now he knows the truth.

“You always bought the most expensive things. It was wasteful. Cheaper desserts are just as good.” Takumi opens his eyes again, and they’re wet again, tears spilling down his cheeks once more while Gentoku gently wipes them away. “You spoiled me too much. I asked you not to.”

Gentoku’s smile is small but pained. “I hadn’t loved someone in so long that I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to give you everything I thought you deserved. Now, I want to give you a partner who can fight with you to restore peace to this country. It’s not ideal, but when all is said and done, it will be  _ you _ who guides us into the future. Your science will have saved us all.”

“I won’t let it be said that my science also didn’t damn us all. It’s only right that we dig ourselves out of the hole we’ve created. It’s responsible.” Takumi takes a deep breath, lowers his head then peeks at Gentoku uncertainly. “I hate to admit this, but I missed you. Before I… Evolt… I missed the man you were when we first met before Evolt poisoned you even further.”

“I’m an even different man now. One whose mind isn’t clouded by paranoia and hatred anymore. Someone who, maybe, can learn from you about what this world can truly be.” Gentoku swallows hard enough that his throat clicks, sees when Takumi winces at the gesture. “If this… If any of this is uncomfortable for you, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pressure you. It’s difficult to see you upset without doing something. But what I said was true. We don’t have to be together.”

Takumi wets his lips and nods, but when Gentoku tries to remove his hands, Takumi’s are there to stop him, vice grips on his wrists. “I’m a fool for saying this. I know that. I know that better than anyone, but you don’t sound like the Gentoku I knew anymore. You sound  _ better _ than him. And for quite a while, he was already a man I couldn’t dream of. If we tried again—”

“Do you want that?” Gentoku interrupts, his heartbeat increasing to a speed that he’s sure is dangerous, indicative of a heart attack, maybe total failure.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved. There was never anyone else for me. I didn’t think I would ever look at anyone else the way I looked at you.” Takumi closes his eyes again, like all of this is too much for him to bear, even as he presses his cheek into Gentoku’s palm. “If this is you, the real you, then I want to know you. I want you to love me again the way you did before everything else, before Faust, before Evolt. That seems so impossible, but…”

Gentoku presses his forehead against Takumi’s, and he can hear Takumi’s soft intake of breath this close. “I already do love you. I never stopped. All I want to do now is save our planet and bring peace to this city. And, maybe, if you’ll let me, to spoil you with everything you deserve.”

“Idiot.” Takumi tilts his head, bumps their noses together. “Kiss me before I realize you’re just an idiot and I have to change my mind.”

Gentoku kisses him without hesitation then, holding Takumi’s face in his hands because he’s precious, because Gentoku treasures him, because he’s determined to prove to Takumi that every ounce of love he ever showed him was just the tip of the iceberg, that there is so much more to him now. Takumi sobs against his lips and Gentoku jumps, almost frozen in place before Takumi’s arms are around his shoulders, clinging to him while he kisses back. He’s better at it than he was but still a little hopelessly lost, too much tongue, too much desperation, but Gentoku lets it go because he’s just as sloppy, just as needy this time.

It isn’t like kissing Takumi used to be, but it isn’t his former face, his former mouth. The shape of the bow of his lips is different enough to throw Gentoku off at first but he recovers quickly, trying to pour as much as he can into this. Regret, apologies, declarations of love— Everything in the simple motion of his lips against Takumi’s, the way he touches Takumi’s tear-damp cheeks. His lips are wet with them too, a salty tang against Gentoku’s tongue that reminds him that he’s hurt this man, that for as much as he loves him he’s made mistakes.

He isn’t going to make any more mistakes with Takumi’s heart.

“I missed you so much. So much it hurt. It’s the one thing you might understand, missing someone like that.” Takumi hiccups against his lips and Gentoku kisses him again, and he can almost taste the despair on Takumi’s lips.

He does understand. He remembers the sleepless nights after he saw the body, the long hours spent wondering if he could have done anything to stop it, the cold nights in the Faust lab while hopeless fools played with Takumi’s work. He remembers his own apartment always depressingly empty, never waking up to find Takumi curled against his chest, face tucked away from the sunlight peeking into the room. That keen despair cutting through him like a knife.

When Takumi leans away from him, Gentoku’s hands slide down from his face to meet behind his back, arms looping around his waist, so easy. “I’ve missed you, too, Takumi.”

They try for another kiss, slower and lazier to start, easier on both of them, but it isn’t long before the kiss grows passionate and needy once more, and Takumi’s hands fist in the material of his coat, pull at it, frustrated little noises spilling from his mouth and into Gentoku’s. It doesn’t take much to see where he’s going with this and Gentoku pulls firmly back, holding Takumi at arm’s length until the scientist looks at him, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

“We’re only just now talking about being a couple again. You’re rushing things, don’t you think?” He tries for a lighter, less serious tone but doesn’t quite make it all the way.

“No. I’m not. We’ve suffered so much and we might not come out of this fight alive. Evolt is so strong, and I don’t… I don’t want to leave any regrets behind me.” Takumi walks back into the circle of Gentoku’s arms, wrapping himself around Gentoku, face pressed against the crook of his neck. “I want you. All of you. I want this because if this is the last moment we have together, if the next fight takes everything from us, then I want to take this with me.”

“If there’s any afterlife, I’ll be there with you. Nothing could separate us. I won’t let it, not now that I have you back,” Gentoku whispers, and his voice is hoarse, but fierce. He  _ means _ this.

Takumi laughs against his throat, and it eases the tight ache in his chest, the tension in his muscles, even though there’s no logical reason for it. “I don’t doubt that now. But just in case, I want this. I want you. It’s been so long for me, and for you, too.”

“It has been, but that doesn’t negate the fact that if you aren’t ready for this… I don’t want to make you feel like I used you, or for you to be upset about this.” It might kill him. Gentoku had always been careful with Takumi when it came to sex,  _ always _ . Making sure he was comfortable, that he had everything he needed, that he was overloaded with sensory pleasure because Gentoku wanted to, because making Takumi feel good was important to him. It still is, and the thought of hurting him again, and like this, is too much.

“I’m the one asking for this. I want you to make love to me.” Takumi’s voice shivers a little on the last few words and Gentoku squeezes him just a little tighter. “I don’t know about Sento’s sex life, though, so I don’t know how much preparation I’ll need.”

The reminder that this body belonged to someone else recently is sobering, and Gentoku tilts his head, pressing a kiss to Takumi’s hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

It seems wrong to do this on Sento’s bed, of all places, but Gentoku refuses to use the floor or the desk space. Instead, he takes Takumi by the hand and leads him over to the bed, leaving his shoes on the floor next to it, watching Takumi kick his own off before sitting on the edge of the mattress. There’s no disguising the slight flush crawling up his cheeks, because it has been long for both of them and he’d been shy at first, the first time Gentoku ever touched him (maybe the first time anyone ever had, when he really thinks about it).

Gentoku sits down beside him, turned to face him, slipping a hand beneath the long tan coat, easing it off of Takumi’s shoulder. “Is this all right?”

“You first, if you don’t mind.” Takumi wets his lips again and when he meets Gentoku’s eyes, his are darker, just a touch, but visibly so.

The Seito uniform is so many layers, black and red and gray, dark and angry colors, and Gentoku is happy to shed them, one by one, leaving them in a pool beside the bed. There are fresh bruises on his skin, scrapes here and there, scars from the constant fighting and the damage he sustained growing into Rogue. Takumi is equal parts fascinated and upset by this, that much Gentoku can read in his expression before he stretches out a tentative hand, pressing it flat to Gentoku’s chest just over where his heart beats.

“You’re anxious,” Takumi murmurs, and Gentoku laughs a little. “It’s all right. I am, too. I haven’t, in so long, but I trust you. You never hurt me when we were intimate.”

The reassurance is valuable; Gentoku takes Takumi’s hand, brings it to his lips and presses a kiss to his fingers, to the palm of his hand. “And I won’t hurt you this time, either.”

“It’s just… You’ve been hurt so much. You helped start this war, you’ve been actively choosing to fight, but I just… It’s uncomfortable, seeing all these injuries.” Takumi frowns at him and Gentoku wants to cry at this, lacing his fingers with Takumi’s.

Instead, he takes him by the chin and kisses him. “Think nothing of it. I’m alive, and I will continue to survive. Let me finish undressing so I can undress you.”

He unfastens the black slacks and lets them fall to the ground, stepping out of them and pushing his boxers down to finish the pile of clothing on the floor. When he and Takumi were first together, Gentoku was not shy about his body, confident in himself, in his charm and his ability to please Takumi. Now, he’s a little more self-conscious, a little more aware of the various imperfections etched into his skin.

Takumi reaches for him and Gentoku lets him touch, shivers under the sensation of his curious hands running over his skin, poking and prodding here and there though not unkindly. Even though Takumi has barely done anything, he’s already starting to grow hard just at the promise of being with Takumi again, of undressing him and taking the time to show him just how Gentoku truly loves him. If Takumi wants a memory to take with him should anything happen to either or both of them, then Gentoku will give him one that even Evolt’s memory suppression can’t touch.

When Takumi is satisfied, he sits back, spreading his arms wide. “Go ahead. Your turn.”

Gentoku is methodical with how he undresses Takumi, nudging the jacket down his shoulders, pulling it down his arms slowly, carefully. The shirt is next, and he’s just as slow with that, baring just inches of Takumi’s body as he goes, his mouth dry at the sight of him; he’s just as bruised, as battered, as scarred. When he’s only naked from the waist up, Gentoku moves forward so he can touch him, stealing a kiss before tracing a slow path down his throat to the roundest part of his shoulder. His hands are everywhere, smoothing over Takumi’s warm skin.

“You’re going to tease me?” Takumi asks, and Gentoku raises an eyebrow at him. “Undress me. I want to feel your body against mine if you’re going to make me wait like this.”

“Impatient.” Gentoku relents, helping Takumi out of his pants and his briefs, leaving him gloriously bare from head to toe. His body isn’t without flaw, but it’s perfect nonetheless in Gentoku’s eyes, a part of the man he loves with all of his fractured heart.

Takumi swallows and lifts his chin, almost in challenge, but Gentoku only kisses him again, pulling Takumi into his arms and against him, letting him feel their skin touch. It’s better than he can put into words, the feeling of Takumi’s weight in his embrace once more, perched precariously on his lap, hands exploring Gentoku’s back and shoulders while their lips meet again and again, tongues curling together. It’s not the same as it was but it’s just as good now, just as wonderful given that it’s Takumi,  _ his _ Takumi. Nothing will change that.

He expects a complaint when he lies Takumi down on the bed and pulls back so he can look at him properly but Takumi says nothing, eyelids fluttering closed once more, hand half-curling in the duvet beneath him. There’s so much of him before Gentoku’s eyes that he doesn’t know where to start, where to touch or kiss. Takumi saves him from having to choose, pulling him down into a kiss, wrapping a leg around his waist so that he can’t escape.

“Takumi,” Gentoku whispers against his lips, leaning back when Takumi tries to kiss him again. “I want to touch every inch of you. Lie back for me, let me.”

Takumi whines at him. “But I don’t want to just lie here. I want to do something.”

“Do something by letting me take care of you.” Gentoku kisses his jaw, nuzzles against his throat until Takumi sighs. “You deserve it. You’ve worked so hard. Let me take care of you.”

His hands stroke down the length of Takumi’s chest, feeling the way he squirms when Gentoku’s fingers press into his ribs, the little whimpers when Gentoku thumbs over his sensitive nipples, his hips lifting just barely when Gentoku’s hands ghost over the indents in his hips. The face might be different, the voice might be different, but the body beneath him is the same one he used to touch until nothing but Takumi’s name lingered on his lips, his tongue. His mouth follows so slowly but lingers more, lips pressing soft kisses to Takumi’s bare skin, tongue tracing familiar lines, teeth pressing in but just barely, leaving the smallest pink marks behind. The thought of hurting Takumi when he has already hurt so much makes Gentoku feel physically ill.

_ He _ hurt Takumi the most, and he plans on making up for all of it one way or another. Even if he spends the rest of his life doing it, and he likely will. But the first step is making good on his promise that he will never, ever hurt Takumi again no matter the circumstances.

His nipples are already hard when Gentoku’s mouth slides over one of them, responding to his touch, and while Sento might have been intimate with his partners in this war, Takumi has been isolated for so long that even small touches must feel overwhelming to him. His body had always been responsive, and despite the punishment he has taken that seems not to have changed. When Gentoku licks over his nipple, Takumi whines softly and arches up into his mouth, fingers slipping into Gentoku’s hair, nails scraping lightly along his scalp.

The sensation makes his spine tingle and he groans softly against Takumi’s skin. His lips and tongue and teeth know their perfect rhythm without thinking about it, teasing Takumi’s nipples until they’re harder, flushed darker from Gentoku’s ministrations, damp from his mouth. When Takumi’s leg kicks out beneath him, he kisses down the toned length of his stomach. His Takumi was never so fit, so physically strong, but Sento had been inside of this body and he must have trained furiously as Build. The evidence of his presence here lingers even now.

“Gentoku.” Takumi rasps his name out, curling a leg around Gentoku’s waist, stopping him from moving any lower. “If you put your mouth on me I’m not… I’m not…”

He’s already close. The thought is arousing, makes Gentoku painfully hard between his own legs, and he has to fight hard to resist the urge to rut down against the mattress. “Maybe I should have asked Banjo if your refractory period has shifted.”

“Don’t talk about him now.” Takumi whines, pushing his face into the pillow beneath his head, his skin already slightly damp with sweat that makes his body shine so faintly beneath the lights. “I don’t know. I’m not sure. It doesn’t seem like it should have. Why do you ask?”

“Fifteen minutes, roughly, give or take.” Gentoku’s face burns at the fact he remembers this and he watches Takumi pick his head off of the pillows, eyes glazed slightly, hair mussed, lips bitten red. The stark horror on his face makes Gentoku’s heart hurt. “Don’t look at me like that. It was important to know as often as we were intimate. But it should give me enough time.”

Takumi pants softly, wetting his lips with his tongue, soft and pink and wet and Gentoku fists the sheet beneath him at the sight. “Enough time for what?”

“He probably was intimate with the others. So this body… Isn’t lacking in recent experience.” Saying any of this out loud feels clunky and inappropriate but Takumi only cocks his head, looking thoughtful at the words. Can he remember anything, even dimly? “But it’s been a long time since we were together. I want to properly take care of you.”

He hopes the weight of his words can be conveyed without more words because his face already feels like it might catch on fire. When Takumi’s cheeks pink just slightly, he thinks they might have. And then, of course, because Takumi is Takumi, he has to connect the dots out loud where Gentoku is forced to hear it. “You’re talking about preparing me. I understand now.”

“Yes,” Gentoku says. It’s his turn to be scandalized.

“Very well.” Takumi falls back into the pillows, covers his eyes with his forearm, and it might just be Gentoku’s imagination but he thinks he can see a slow flush crawling down Takumi’s chest. It had taken time for Takumi to stop being shy around him, to be open especially in a setting like this one, but it’s been so long for both of them that he might have slipped back into himself. “It won’t take very long. I— That’s embarrassing maybe, but I can’t help it.”

Gentoku kisses Takumi’s belly once more, lips tracing a path to the indent where his hip is, fingers pressed there, teasing the small dip until Takumi squirms for him. “Don’t be embarrassed. I could never be upset about making you feel good, even if it takes so little.”

Takumi groans softly down at him and Gentoku continues downward, wrapping a hand around the base of Takumi’s cock when he reaches it. Truly, he had been honest when he said he was close. The slow throb of his shaft in Gentoku’s grip is too tempting, the head already wet with pre-come that has created a slick spot on his belly. Gentoku licks that away first, the slight tang on his tongue making him moan. It’s so little but Gentoku has been waiting for this and the reality is better than any fantasy he could have ever hoped to have.

He was a selfish lover when he and Takumi were first together. The most attention he ever paid Takumi’s body was their first time because Takumi was a virgin and Gentoku wanted to give him a reason to keep coming back for more. More often than not, Gentoku demanded to be pleased, and Takumi was usually willing to comply, but even Gentoku knows he pushed his luck far too often and did not do enough to return the favor. He has a second chance now. He’s going to do things right, to show Takumi just how much he cares about him.

_ No more mistakes. No more missteps. Only give him the best. He’s long deserved it from me. _

“I don’t want you to hold yourself back.” Gentoku kisses his thigh, jerking him off slow and easy, barely moving his hand at all, blood alight at the way Takumi whimpers for him, hips lazily rocking into his touch. “If you come the moment my mouth is on you, so be it. I want you to.”

“This isn’t exactly the most romantic makeup sex, is it?” Takumi asks from behind his arm.

Gentoku smiles softly and sadly at the question, pressing his cheek against Takumi’s bare skin, drinking in how it feels to be this close to him again. “It might not be, but it’s you, so I’ll take it.”

He takes Takumi in his mouth then, wrapping his lips around just the tip of him, sucking softly as he takes him in centimeter by centimeter. Working up to taking him all the way in is necessary; Gentoku hasn’t done this for another man in a while and Takumi doesn’t remember being touched, so he wants to drag it out just a little, give him just a bit more pleasure. He knows Takumi is close, that he might not be able to hold on— and he’ll try, even though Gentoku told him not to— but he wants Takumi to feel cherished just the same.

Slowly he bobs his head, his lips slick enough from spit that Takumi glides between them easily, and he isn’t quite long enough to make it hard so Gentoku doesn’t have to worry about gagging on him. One hand shifts under him, cradling his ass while the other pins his hip down, the ideal position to give him what he wants. The one hand in Gentoku’s hair is joined by a second and he glances up with Takumi still in his mouth to see Takumi watching him, face bright red, eyes glazed over with pleasure, lips parted, panting softly, hair flipped up in several places.

He’s so  _ cute _ like this that Gentoku’s heart hurts and he closes his eyes, devoting himself to the task of sucking Takumi’s cock. The tang of pre-come on his tongue becomes slowly stronger and heavier, and Gentoku can feel Takumi throbbing, the vein under his cock dragging along Gentoku’s lower lip. He’s so close, his muscles tensing. Gentoku can feel them.

When Takumi cries out and bucks up into his mouth, Gentoku finally chokes a little but not enough for it to matter. He holds Takumi still and swallows, sucks him through his orgasm until Takumi squirms, too sensitive, trying to pull away. Gentoku sucks him clean before letting Takumi’s cock leave his mouth. Takumi’s flushed all over now, body slick with sweat, slender chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

But the corners of his mouth are upturned, his eyes crinkled just slightly with the smile.

He’s so beautiful that it makes Gentoku burn.

“That felt so good.” Takumi laughs a little and Gentoku can’t help a faint smile, soothing a hand up and down Takumi’s thigh, feeling the muscles there flutter gently beneath his touch. “It’s been so long since… I only had my hand after we fell through, and it wasn’t as good as yours.”

“We’ll have to teach you how to do it properly so that you can enjoy it more if I need to travel and can’t bring you with me.” It’s presumptuous to say this, and Gentoku knows it.

Takumi only laughs at him, runs a hand through his damp hair. “The one thing you can teach me.”

“I still want to put my mouth on you before anything else. I’ve… Seen enough to lead me to believe that Kiryu kept your body clean.” He doesn’t want to go into details, walking in on Sento and Banjo more than once, far too easy because the two of them fucked as often as they fought together like they knew every single moment was precious and they had to squeeze out as much as possible before they had no time left.

“I’m not going to stop you.” Takumi takes another few deep breaths before he rolls himself onto his side, hitching a leg up closer to his chest, and the angle puts his ass right in Gentoku’s face, a tempting offering. “Please take care of me.”

His voice sounds so small that Gentoku can’t resist the urge to kiss him, trailing kisses over his thigh, over his hip, smaller kisses over his ass that make Takumi wriggle on the sheets. He was never this affectionate before, not like this, not with such small things. There was so much he did wrong the first time, so much he did to hurt Takumi instead of properly taking care of him, and it isn’t about the concept that Takumi can take care of himself. Who could ever know that better than Gentoku, after all?

But Takumi was his boyfriend, the man he loved, the one he was supposed to cherish and treasure, and he should have done more for him. Protecting someone and taking care of them is not about  _ having _ to do it, but  _ wanting _ to do it because you love them.

He reaches around Takumi, finds one of his hands and squeezes it tight in his own. “Of course I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“Don’t break this one,” Takumi says, voice stern.

Gentoku kisses the topmost part of his thigh, right beneath his ass. “I won’t. Not again.”

He nudges Takumi’s cheeks apart with one hand so he can get between them, his tongue tracing a careful path from the top of his crack all the way down to his hole, just past that to tease at his perineum. The first time they did this, Takumi had asked for it, albeit quietly like he thought Gentoku might shoot down the request; he didn’t, not the first time, but there had only been a first time and no time after because Gentoku didn’t do enough then. He has to do enough now, more than enough, to make sure Takumi knows he’s different now. He’s changed. He’s going to do as much right as he can.

The soft little noises Takumi makes for him catch his attention, threatening to put him under a spell. He must be muffling them— a hand over his mouth, lips pressed to the pillow, tongue caught between his teeth— but Gentoku can hear them just the same. They almost match the way his hips twitch with the movements of Gentoku’s tongue, and that’s nostalgic. Takumi had always been responsive, a massive ego trip for Gentoku because everything he did elicited a verbal response no matter how small, and that only goaded him on.

It goads him on now even though he’s back in his right mind. The sounds Takumi makes, a litany of soft little gasps and desperate whines that are almost soundless, make his cock that much harder, his ministrations bolder. He runs his tongue in close, tight circles around Takumi’s rim, feeling the muscle there reacting, small twitches. But Takumi is relaxed, so relaxed for him, trusting him with this, so when Gentoku presses his tongue inside of him, Takumi’s body opens for him. He’s hot, tight around Gentoku’s tongue but he opens up so well, and the little moan Gentoku receives for this sets his blood on fire.

He fucks Takumi with his tongue, licking deep inside of him, pulling his tongue free to lick over and around his hole before thrusting it back in. Takumi’s hips stutter with the movements, struggling to pick out Gentoku’s rhythm; he doesn’t miss Takumi’s frustrated little cry when he can’t find it at all, looks up the length of his body to see Takumi’s fingers twisting in his own hair, an anchor. The hand in Gentoku’s own spasms before gripping his fingers so tight it hurts.

This time, he lets himself be messy. He lets the spit smear across his face as he licks hot and wet over Takumi’s skin, not bothered when it leaves his beard wet. He wonders how that feels, the scrape of rough hair against Takumi’s skin. If it hurts him, he says nothing about it.

The extra spit leaves his perineum slick enough that Gentoku can press a thumb there, rolling it easily over his skin, massaging until Takumi whimpers and squirms, caught between moving closer to Gentoku’s mouth and shying away from the extra stimulation. When Gentoku presses a finger in with his tongue, Takumi sobs and bucks backward, decision made, the tight heat of him gripping Gentoku’s finger so tight it makes Gentoku’s stomach lurch. Takumi has been denied for so long, and Gentoku doesn’t want to drag this out so far he suffers.

He switches out his tongue for a second finger, twisting around, scanning the room around him, looking for anything that might make things easier on them. There’s lube sitting out on the table beside the bed and he stares at it for a moment, not quite putting two and two together until it hits him that Sento and Banjo have just left it out. Sighing, he stretches up to retrieve it, twisting his fingers inside of Takumi as he does, wringing a desperate cry out of him.

“Gentoku, you’re t-teasing me,” he grits out even as his hips roll backward, taking Gentoku’s fingers in deeper until there’s no more left to take.

“Only a little.” Gentoku has to pull his fingers out just enough that he can slick them properly, the lube smelling faintly of something fruity because of course it does. “How do you feel?”

Takumi pouts down at him and it’s the first time in a while Gentoku has a proper look at his face; his cock throbs, insistent that it needs attention, touch, something, but Gentoku ignores it in favor of reveling in Takumi’s face. His lips are red, teeth indents visible in his soft lower lip, his hair a disaster around his face, color high in his cheeks. Gentoku knows his face has to be warm and he wants to take it in his face, kiss Takumi’s soft mouth better.

“Full,” Takumi finally tells him, rolling his hips down, and Gentoku’s fingers go back inside of him so easily with the added lubricant. “But not full enough. I want more.”

There’s something hot about the way Takumi says this, an edge to his voice, almost a  _ demand _ that makes Gentoku smirk just a little. “All right,” he says, folding in a third finger, watching Takumi’s eyes widen, his lips parting around a little noise. “Lay back and let me take care of you.”

“I wanna ride you when you’re done.” Takumi’s voice is so small as he listens, letting his body fall back to the mattress, pulling his leg up to his chest, opening himself wider. “Please.”

“You don’t even have to ask.” Gentoku lets go of Takumi’s hand so he can brace his own on Takumi’s hip, curling his fingers just enough to rub over his prostate. Slow and easy circular motions over this spot, a gentle massage over such a sensitive place. Even this stimulates the nerves enough to make Takumi cry out, his body shuddering. “If that’s what you want, then you can have it. You can have everything, Takumi.”

_ There’s nothing I won’t give you if you just let me. _

In any other time, Gentoku would draw this out, maybe add another finger and open up Takumi so wide that he’d feel it for days. But he knows better than to make Takumi wait any longer. He needs both hands and removing his fingers feels like torture when Takumi whines at him and squirms, looking for that lost contact. He plants a kiss on Takumi’s hip, a reward for him doing so well, before he picks up the lube once more.

“Let me do it.” Takumi blinks up at him with wide bright eyes, scrambling, his limbs unsteady, especially his thighs, wracked with fine trembles. “Just. Get comfortable and I’ll do it.”

Takumi wants to ride him, and maybe he thought of Gentoku on his back with Takumi on top of him, but Gentoku doesn’t want that. Maybe later, if there is a later. For now, he bunches the pillows up and leans his back against them, half-sitting up against the wall, legs splayed so Takumi can kneel between them. There’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes but Gentoku has a plan, and besides this gives him a much better angle to watch Takumi spill lubricant in the palm of his hand, rubbing his palms together, a considerate choice to warm the liquid before he wraps both hands around Gentoku’s cock, slowly jerking him off.

The angle also draws Gentoku’s attention to Takumi’s cock, curving up against his stomach once more, flushed and the head smeared with pre-come. He’d gotten so much just from Gentoku’s mouth and fingers that Gentoku can’t help the way his pride swells at the thought.

But it’s hard to focus on that for too long when Takumi’s hands are on him, expert on his body, fingers curling around him just right, just tight enough that there’s friction through the slickness, the calluses and scars adding interesting sensation. He has the hands of an engineer and soldier and Gentoku wants to kiss each finger, letting his lips linger on Takumi’s skin.

“You haven’t been touched this whole time, have you?” Takumi looks up at him, drags his tongue over his lip probably just to wet it but it leaves the skin spit-slick and shiny under the lights, and his eyes are lidded. “You’ve been focusing on me.”

Gentoku swallows hard. “Y-yes, of course. You deserve the attention.”

“That must have been painful. You’ve done so much for me.” Takumi squirms, maybe at the memories, his hands tightening around Gentoku’s cock.

“It’s what I wanted to do. Focus on you, worship you.” Gentoku’s voice is unsteady but he means every word, taking Takumi’s face in his hands, pressing hungry kisses to his mouth, tongue nudging between his swollen lips. “You deserved it, Takumi. That and so much more.”

When Takumi takes his hands off of Gentoku’s dick, it takes everything in Gentoku not to make a noise at him. “Then give me this because I want it. I want you inside of me.”

It’s a little awkward to get the position just right, their bodies taking a moment to remember how to slot together like they used to. And they aren’t the same, not anymore. Gentoku has scars and Takumi has muscles and there are differences but not enough for it to matter. Finally, Takumi finds the ideal position, straddling Gentoku’s hips, raised up enough off of his lap that Gentoku can take his cock in hand, holding it steady while Takumi lowers himself down. They go slow, and Gentoku revels for just a moment in how it feels to rub the slick head of his cock against Takumi’s stretched hole, the muscle there giving so easy for him.

“Are you ready?” Takumi asks him, hands braced on Gentoku’s shoulders, fingers digging in so hard that Gentoku hopes there are bruises there, reminders of what they did together.

He smiles up at Takumi, a little crookedly. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Stop being obnoxious. I asked you first.” Takumi pouts at him before stealing a kiss and Gentoku nips his lower lip.

He sinks down slow, oh so slow, torturously slow until Gentoku grits his teeth as the tight heat sucks his cock in centimeter by centimeter. Takumi was right; he hadn’t touched himself at all yet and the sudden pressure is almost enough to wring his orgasm out of him. Not enough, not quite, because he holds on for Takumi, holds on for the pleasure he wants to share with him. An orgasm is an orgasm but nothing feels as good as it does when he’s watching Takumi lose himself in the act until he’s all but consumed by it.

Gentoku keeps his hand around his cock, only moving it when he’s sure Takumi has had time to adjust to what’s already inside of him. He watches Takumi lower himself the rest of the way until Gentoku’s balls deep inside of him, Takumi’s ass settled neatly on his lap, thighs trembling, eyes squeezed shut as his fingers bite into Gentoku’s shoulders.

“Does it hurt too much?” Gentoku strokes a hand up and down his side, concern etched into every word he speaks.

Takumi shakes his head immediately. “N-no, you did an adequate job preparing me.”

“What is it, then?” Gentoku presses, taking Takumi’s chin in hand, thumb stroking over his lip. “Tell me so I can help you. You look so uncomfortable—”

“When I told you all I had was my hand, I meant it. I can only get my own fingers so deep.” Takumi speaks rapidly, cutting Gentoku off, his eyes still shut. “Hardly deep enough. I’m a little overwhelmed right now at having so much inside of me all at once. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a lot.”

He punctuates his words with a small moan, rocking his hips just enough that Gentoku can feel the way his inner muscles shift, gripping Gentoku’s cock a little tighter. The sensation has Gentoku’s eyes rolling back in his head just a little, head thumping back against the wall behind him. His hands find a familiar place at Takumi’s hips, thumbs stroking over the tops of them while he waits for Takumi to adjust to being so full. With his attention diverted he has barely any warning before Takumi moves, lifting himself only a little before coming back down.

Takumi takes a few tries to find a rhythm he’s pleased with and Gentoku relishes the entire experiment, the little desperate sounds Takumi makes, rocking his hips, rolling them, riding Gentoku slow and easy before he sighs, a blissful little noise that tells Gentoku he’s finally satisfied. The pace is far from hurried, a leisurely little up-down, the lube making soft sucking noises against their skin barely audible over Takumi’s own small moans.

“Oh, I’ve missed this.” Takumi’s hands soften on Gentoku’s shoulders, holding onto him for support instead of squeezing him for dear life.

Gentoku takes a deep breath to study himself and meets Takumi’s dark eyes, lidded but bright with pleasure. “You know I’ve missed this. I think I’ve said it a thousand times.”

“You missed  _ me, _ ” Takumi says, like a revelation, a hand creeping up into Gentoku’s hair, tangling in the overly long strands, damp with sweat and probably messier than Gentoku can sort on his own. “It’s always best when it’s with me, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Always.  _ Yes. _ ” Gentoku’s hips buck when Takumi comes down particularly hard, startling a little groan out of him. “It’s never as good with anyone else. All I did was think of you anyway.”

He might be mistaken, but he thinks he sees Takumi’s eyes glitter at this for just a moment. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

Gentoku doesn’t chase after what this means because he knows, he knows Takumi can be his own form of possessive, his own form of egotistical. It’s all too sexy to him right now with Takumi riding him like this, hips gradually picking up speed until he comes down hard enough that there are audible smacks echoing through the quiet room, skin against skin. He loses his ability to talk when his breathing starts to come out in harsh pants, eyes screwed shut coupled with loud moans. Gentoku isn’t the least bit quite himself, groaning, gasping, even yelping when Takumi squeezes so tight around him it threatens to undo him.

He shifts so that Takumi comes down at a slightly different angle and he stutters immediately, eyes flying wide open as Gentoku’s cock glides against his prostate. He’s so sensitive that too much pressure causes him more pain than pleasure, that too much direct probing contact ruins the mood. But this is easy, a just there touch that leaves his thighs trembling even as he picks up his pace once more, hungry for more, for anything Gentoku will give him.

Gentoku knows Takumi’s body, how to please him, what works best for him, and even though Takumi has the control right now, he guides him little by little. Not trying to take control but ceding more to him, giving him everything he needs to please himself.

When Takumi’s hips lose their steady rhythm, Gentoku wraps a hand around his cock, stroking him slow and easy, drawing out each movement until Takumi sobs and bucks up into his touch. “Shh, that’s it. You’re so close, Takumi, I can tell.”

“It’s so good when it’s you.” Takumi leans over him, claims Gentoku’s lips in messy wet kisses that make his mouth hurt just a little. “When it’s us. Please, Gentoku, I’m so cl—”

“I know.” Gentoku splays a hand in the small of his back, urging him to keep moving as he strokes his cock, thumb teasing over the head. “Come for me, Takumi. I know you can do it.”

Takumi clamps down around him so hard when he comes that Gentoku’s vision momentarily fuzzes over, bright white bursts in his vision, static in his head. He’s vaguely aware of some things— Takumi coming on his hand, dripping hot down his fingers, the way Takumi’s cry rings in his ears— but it’s all secondary to the way his entire body spasms wildly, his nerves on fire, and it’s never been so good. Not with just himself, not with anyone else. Just Takumi.

The comedown takes so long that Gentoku isn’t sure how long he’s been slumped uselessly against the pillows with Takumi curled against his chest. He doesn’t know when he wrapped his arms around Takumi’s body but they’re there now, hands rubbing up and down his back while Takumi pants softly against his neck. He leans back to look at Gentoku, his cheeks flushed bright pink, his lips parted, somehow both exhausted and excited all at once.

His Takumi.

“I’m going to be feeling that one for a while,” he admits, shifting off of Gentoku’s cock. “I went a little… Overboard, I suppose, but it was for a special occasion.”

“Definitely. Ah, that was…” Gentoku trails off, scooting over so Takumi can lie down next to him, easing an arm around his waist as he rolls onto his side, nuzzling against Takumi’s throat. “I missed you so much. I’ve missed everything about you.”

Takumi is quiet, then presses a kiss to Gentoku’s forehead. It’s so gentle and unexpected that Gentoku whines. “Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore. And I don’t have to miss you.”

“We’ve lost so much time.” Gentoku clings to him a little tighter. “No more.”

“No more,” Takumi echoes.

He rolls onto his side so Gentoku can spoon against his back and Gentoku lays kisses across his shoulders and the back of his neck until he’s too tired to do anything. His arms rest on Takumi’s stomach, Takumi’s coming to set on top of his, and it’s nice, this moment, the quiet and the dimly lit bedroom beyond the laboratory.

War is raging above them, but for just this moment, Gentoku feels like he might have stolen a moment of peace, of tranquility that he doesn’t deserve but needs more than he can vocalize.

With Takumi in his arms and by his side, they’ll take back their country, save their people, and create a peace that lasts a lifetime. It might have been his original path— Gentoku doesn’t know, and it was so long ago— but with Takumi’s hand in his, he might be able to walk this path correctly, and see it through all the way to the destination at the end.

This time, they’ll reach it together.


End file.
